Outside Looking In
by flourishes
Summary: Hermione may never wake from the unconsciousness she's descended into, and Ron must come to terms with the fact that she may never know how he feels. A companion to Filmstrips.
1. Without the Silver Watch

Outside Looking In: A companion to Filmstrips

By flourishes

A/N Even though this piece parallels its companion, you should probably read Filmstrips first, since it's a good deal heavier on the detail.  Outside Looking In can stand on its own, but any questions that may arise through reading it will likely be answered if you read Filmstrips. 

She was fine.  I know she was.  I saw her.  The whole morning had been a blur, but there was one face all morning that was crystal clear, that I had been able to focus on.   I saw every expression that flitted through her eyes and the tenseness in her jaw.  She was defiant, she was angry, she was strong.  I drew my strength from her steady presence.  The fear I was feeling vanished when I met her brown eyes across the expanse of the Great Hall.  The sounds of clashing wizards were emanating from the entrance, drawing ever closer. Still I looked, and she was my anchor.  It was only when the Death Eaters arrival was heralded by a sudden blast of spells that I looked away.  For three seconds I panned the expanse of the Great Hall, seeing where I would be needed most.  Three seconds passed before I glanced back to find her gone, the doorway behind which she had taken shelter no more than a heap of crumbled stones.  Oh, I thought, she's stuck behind them.  It'll be awhile before she manages to get back.  That's good, then she's safe…And I thought no longer, throwing myself into the fray before me, two words echoing in my head. "She's safe, she's safe, she's safe…"

* * *   

It feels like it has been days, but in reality only a few hours have passed.  I am grimy, covered in soot, and my robes have been ripped to shreds.  There are bodies lying prone in the corridors of Hogwarts, their blood pooling in the crevices between the stones.  There are others who have been hit by so many spells they are crumpled into heaps, but we are victorious.  They have been driven back, and Hogwarts is once again safe.  Through the momentary jubilation, the time before we count our losses and mourn our dead, a trickle of fear runs down my spine, raising the hairs on my neck.  I haven't seen her since, since…the archway had collapsed in a shower of dust and a cloud of smoke.  I break away from the small crowd that has gathered in the Great Hall, where we are checking ourselves for injuries and reversing spells, the releasing of tension culminating in a quasi-celebration as the dead and wounded are being tended to by medi-wizards and witches in the corners.  I turn, frantically, searching for a glimpse of her petite form, a glimmer of her hair, the flash of her smile, and there is nothing.

Ginny, the brilliance of her smile contrasting sharply with her grubby face, comes sprinting up to me, throwing her arms around me.  The knot of fear in my chest loosens slightly.  I hug her back, hoping, wishing, that when Ginny lets go she will be standing behind her, triumph and sorrow mingling in the depths of her eyes.  When Ginny draws back, the space behind her is empty, almost as large as the void forming in my heart.  Maybe, I think, Ginny has seen her.  I ask, hesitantly.

"Gin…have you seen…have you seen…"

I can't get the words out.  I look away, trying, trying to gain control over the emotions that threaten to spill over the dam that is my face.  My sister watches me struggle, comprehension clear upon her face.  Her eyes, just minutes ago brimming with joy at the discovery of another brother safe, grow wide and fearful.

"No, oh Ron, no…"

I nod, tremors rippling through my body.  I raise my hand, cover my face.

"I don't know, not for certain, but I haven't seen her… and she would have found me by now if, if…"

My shoulders heave and I whirl.  I will find her. I have to.  She is my anchor.  Without her, I'd be cast adrift in a sea of emptiness.  Ginny follows my steps, eyes looking in every corner, through every doorway.  We make our way through the myriad of passages, searching, looking, finding nothing, the drifting smoke making our eyes sting.  I realize suddenly that we are almost too where I had last seen her.  She had been standing at the entrance to the Great Hall that nearest Gryffindor Tower, the entrance that was just around the bend.   I freeze. I hear something, echoing, a small sound, magnified many times against the backdrop of the stones.  It is a sound that I have heard echoing before, through the endless rows of library books, through the silence and hiss of simmering cauldrons in potions.  It is the steady ticking of a muggle watch, the watch that usually adorns the graceful arch of a dainty wrist, the watch that she had refused to let me enchant to prevent that infernal "tick-tock".

The pressure on my chest increases.   Not once since she received it have I ever seen her without the silver watch on her wrist.  Maybe she dropped it.  Yes, that has to be the explanation.  But yet…if she had just dropped her watch, she would have found me.  I am frozen, not wanting to turn the corner, the steady tick still echoing throughout my head. Ginny is watching, a quizzical expression lurking beneath that of concern.  I sigh brokenly.  

"Listen…her watch, you can here it ticking."

She strains her ears, shakes her head.  It must be my paranoia, my preoccupation with finding her.  I turn the corner. And I remember a quote that she had read to me once, from a Muggle author named "Dockens" or Dickens or somewhat.  She had read it to me in the dark days right after Voldemort had risen again, and a fragment ran through my head as I took in the tableau before me.  

"…it was the spring of hope and it was the winter of despair…"

At the time I didn't understand how it could be both things at once.  But as my eyes traveled over the ruins and crumbled stones that had once constituted an archway, I understood perfectly.  For the thin ray of watery sunshine that was shining through a crack on the wall was reflecting off of a face of a watch that was at once familiar.  The sight of that watch was the spring of hope, but the realization that followed was the winter of despair.  At first glance it had appeared that the watch had just fallen and landed among the stones.  Ginny's shriek of horror jolted me out of the reverie I had been in, recalling the three seconds in which I had lost sight of her.  I looked, willing the sight before me to vanish.  It didn't.  The watch was still attached to Hermione's arm.

A/N       Hope you all enjoyed my portrayal of Ron, I had a bit of trouble with his viewpoint…since I'm not male. Thanks much to my betas, tmj and eleclyn starmaker…they must have read this draft at least twenty times…so thanks for putting up with me!  Comments, criticisms, or general pats on the back, they're all welcome.


	2. Statue Made of Marble

_Outside Looking In_

_~by flourishes_

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters belong to J.K. Rowling, however much I wish they were mine.  

A/N "Outside Looking In" is the companion to "Filmstrips".  It is recommended that you read that first, as it's a bit heavier on the detail.  The second chapter of "Outside Looking In" encompasses events that occurred during the first chapter of "Filmstrips".  

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_"Rest not! Life is sweeping by; go and dare before you die. Something mighty and sublime, leave behind to conquer time."__  
-- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832),_

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_Chapter Two_

I thought back to this morning – a time that seemed so close yet at the same time so far away – was that the last time I would hear her voice, see her smile…

            I had been late waking up, as the curtains surrounding my four poster bed blocked out all of the May sunshine cascading in through the open windows.  I was jolted out of my sound sleep by the sounds of Seamus Finnigan singing a horribly off-key Irish ballad.  A carefully aimed pillow that hit him just on the side of his head did little to shut him up, if anything it just served as an excuse for him to increase his volume.

  I threw back the curtains surrounding Harry's four poster, and used my last remaining pillow to knock him out of his slumber.  We were late, we should have been downstairs in the common room ages ago, and Hermione would be waiting impatiently in the common room, no doubt with one long boned finger tapping the face of her absurd Muggle watch.

             Hermione's habits were so ingrained that her reactions were easy to predict.  She was, indeed, in the common room, tapping the face of her watch.  With a scowl that was slightly tinged with amusement, she scrambled out of the portrait hole, not waiting for us to follow. 

 When Harry and I reached the Gryffindor Table, Hermione was already there, seats saved for us.  I immediately went for the sausage, ignoring Hermione's sound of disapproval.  I have a one track mind in the morning, and at the moment I was full speed ahead on food.  Beside me Harry was partaking of a generous amount of eggs, while Hermione was daintily cutting and chewing on pieces of her toast.  

Her brow was slightly furrowed in concentration, and I would have bet anyone a sickle that she was trying to remember whether or not she'd fed Crookshanks his "vitamin", a muggle capsule that she said the 'veteritrarion' or something of the sort had prescribed to keep him healthy.  As organized and compartmentalized as Hermione's normal routine is, she nonetheless always forgets to remember the 'vitamin.' I don't know why anyone would feed that to a cat, when I sampled it I gagged.  I can't imagine that Crookshanks would appreciate one every day.  Even though Hermione told me they weren't for human consumption I was a bit curious, and once my curiosity is piqued, I must follow up on my fact finding missions.  

Seamus had one too, Harry just laughed when I suggested that we taste them.  Ever since Seamus and I spent the night in the boys toilet with upset stomachs I've been replacing Crookshanks' vitamin with a sugar pill, I doubt Hermione will recognize the difference.  Crookshanks has shown exceptional friendliness to me as of late, and I choose to believe that he very much does appreciate a little sugar with his breakfast.

It was great that morning, because there was only one Professor in charge.  There was loud and raucous conversation, and the hall was ringing with the sounds of laughter.  The three of us were eating in silence; we do so habitually in the mornings unless one of us has some pressing need to divulge information that absolutely cannot wait to be shared.  

Fat lot of good Trelawney's Inner Eye was doing her when it came to keeping control over the breakfast crowd in the Great Hall. She was looking bewildered, and her shawl was drooping as she waved her arms in an attempt to get the attention of a few Ravenclaws who were engaging in a heated, loud disagreement.  Trelawney's efforts were to no avail, but the mere appearance of Snape in the doorway was enough to send the students diving into their breakfast meals. 

 Snape? He usually eats his breakfast alone in his chambers, away from the students.  Snape appeared to be heading towards our table, and I decided to suddenly become very engrossed in my sausage.  

Neither Hermione nor Harry had noted Snape's imminent approach.  I saw Snape's shadow fall across the table, and sensed Hermione's startlement as she turned on the bench to face him.  Harry's head jerked upwards, and we exchanged quick glances before turning to hear what Snape had to say.

 "Potter, Weasley, acquaint yourselves with napkins and follow me.  Miss Granger, your presence is requested as well."

Napkins? What the hell was Snape going on about anyways?  I mean, unless there are napkins out there that serve purposes other than that of decorating tables and being convenient things to tie people down with, I don't think there's anyway to make friends with an inanimate object.  Harry looked just as confounded as I certainly was, and even Hermione looked slightly cowed.  Of course, though, Hermione's expression was due to the fact that Snape had called us out of breakfast along with all the other prefects.  

She'd probably understood exactly what Snape had meant.  I was going to ask her just what exactly the "napkins" were that Harry and I were supposed to acquaint ourselves with, figuring that they were some sort of little known exotic animal.  I'd just opened my mouth to start speaking when Hermione leaned over and whispered sideways, 

"You've both got egg and sausage all over your faces, you pigs. That's what Snape meant by napkins, honestly."  

Oh. Well then.  Way to put a person in their place.  To my defense, I'm never at my sharpest in the early morning.  Alright there, okay.  So it was mid-morning and I'm always just a tad bit dense.  Harry's a bit thick too, so I took it upon myself to enlighten him with a quick jab to the ribs, courtesy of my elbow. 

 By the time Snape had turned to glare at Harry's outburst, my elbow was in its place and I was demurely wiping flecks of sausage off my face.  Harry followed suit, wiping the egg from the ring around his mouth with one hand while massaging the spot on the chest where I'd jabbed him with the other. Honestly, it wasn't that hard of a nudge.  

I was so preoccupied with my napkin dilemma that I hadn't noticed we had reached our destination, which turned out to be Dumbledore's gargoyle. 

 Snape was speaking again, but his first words were lost when Hermione hissed "crumbs" to Harry and he started nervously patting his hair and his chest, trying to make the former stay flat and the latter to miraculously shed all crumbs, but looking remarkably like a perplexed baboon while he was at it.  I turned to find Hermione doing the same, although she looked more like a rhesus monkey than a baboon.  I took the hint before concentrating on the rest of Snape's dry monologue. 

"…situation at hand.  The headmaster wishes to speak with you and requires your utmost cooperation in this very serious matter.  No questions will be asked, you will merely follow the directions you will be given and be done with it.  I would assume without having to say that nothing that you hear here this morning leaves your mouth except that which you have been authorized to disclose."

Whoa.  This was definitely serious.  I turned off the comparisons of my classmates to various primates, having just pictured Crabbe as an orangutan, and followed Hermione up the moving stairs to Dumbledore's office.  There were a lot of people in that room, members of the "old crowd" and…

_My dad and Percy?_ What in the world are they doing here…this is totally unexpected.  They're here, and Remus, and Sirius, and Mundungus Fletcher, and there's Mad-Eye Moody…their presence here, it can mean only one thing…__

Voldemort must be planning an attack on Hogwarts.  Just as I was searching Hermione's face to see if she was coming to the same conclusions I was (And indeed, she was, judging from the fact that her normally rosy cheeks were the color of parchment) when Sirius's voice started to broadcast his question in loud tones. 

 "Harry, alright there, are you? Have you been getting my owls?" 

Harry started out of his momentary confusion and nodded while Sirius's eyes lingered on the lightning strike of Harry's scar, before turning to say hello to Hermione and I.  He clapped me and Harry on the backs and patted Hermione's shoulder.  With his departure we looked at each other and started discussing our speculations.  

Hermione was very pale, but her eyes were bright.  She didn't appear afraid, and I drew strength from her.  Hermione is one of those few people who radiate power when they are faced with adverse circumstances or even a particularly difficult magical task.  When she focuses all of her energy on a single thing, the sight is quite impressive to behold.  

Harry and Malfoy are the same way.  I know it isn't a conscious decision of theirs, to "radiate", per say, but sometime I wish, I wish that I had the same ability.

  McGonagall called us into an adjoining room that seemed to have materialized out of thin air.  I'd been in Dumbledore's office dozens of times, for punishment, crises, and Order business, and had never seen that one particular door.  I didn't remark upon it, but Harry's eyebrows were raised as we walked through what had once been a solid wall. 

All the prefects were there, and Malfoy.  I never thought I'd see the day when I could look at a Malfoy and not see a sneering, malicious, snobbish, evil prick.  But…one Draco Malfoy is now my, ahem, ally.  It galled me to think that he might have turned, initially, although once I learned the circumstances under which his loyalties shifted, I had to accept his inclusion in the Order of the Phoenix.  He could, after all, bring valuable insight into the minds of the Death eaters.  Now Draco is, while not quite a friend, at least friendly with the three of us. 

 And the most surprising thing about it is, I know I can trust him.  The offensive comments and snide remarks have ceased, and his pureblood mentality has for the most part subsided.  With the disappearance of his worse traits, I have found an almost palatable human being beneath the veneer of essential Malfoy-ness.  

We took our seats, Hermione to my right and Draco to my left.  McGonagall seemed to be under great strain as she assumed her position at the podium, but she spoke calmly, as if she was convincing herself not to panic

"You have been summoned here this morning because we have solid evidence that points to an imminent attack upon Hogwarts by followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.  As prefects, your responsibilities lie with securing the students in their towers and making sure they are safe.  When you return to the Great Hall you will lead your charges to their dormitories and seal the entrances.  Under no circumstances are students under the fourth year allowed out of the towers unless they are instructed to leave by a prefect, professor, or ministry official. This scenario is highly unlikely, however we must plan for all eventualities…

…  If the event does occur, the students are to exit the towers and make their way across the moors in pairs or threesomes.  This way they will be less likely to be detected than if they were in a large group. They are to keep walking until they feel they can no longer go on or as soon as they find shelter, provided the shelter is far from the castle.  They will be owled as soon as it is safe for them to return to the castle.  Food will also be provided by owl and they are to be assured that they will be recovered.  Again, this plan is only to be used as a contingency…

… What is expected is an attack designed to demonstrate to us that we are no longer safe anywhere.  It is not thought that Voldemort himself will be present during the attack, just his lackeys.  There is nothing we can do to stop this attack except fight it with all we can if Voldemort has indeed figured out how to breach Hogwarts' defenses…

…  Potter, since we know for fact that Voldemort is not going to be present it is thought that the deatheaters will attempt to kidnap you and take you to Voldemort's side. We are not going to allow this to happen, therefore, the Fidelius charm will be performed and you will be removed to a safe location. Granger, Weasley, you will stay here…

…  The deatheaters will expect that wherever you two are, Harry will be close by.  By staying where you are you will be helping to protect him more than if you were with him.  Malfoy, because of the likelihood that your father will be among those of the attackers, you are to accompany Mr. Potter to the safe location.  We do not want your father to be able to come into contact with you because if he did, you most likely wouldn't see the light of day again…

…  The rest of you are to return to your houses and inform the students of what is going on.  You are to give any student that is of the fifth year or above the opportunity to volunteer to guard the entrance to your tower and the corridors leading up to it…

… In the eventuality that the aurors that are forming the front line of defense are overrun those guarding the towers could possibly be thrust into a situation where they would have to duel a full-grown wizard proficient in the Dark Arts. This should be made clear to all volunteers…

…  All except Potter, Weasley, Granger, and Malfoy are excused.  As soon as you have taken care of your assignments you are to appoint someone to act in your stead as a prefect of your house and return here with all those who volunteer to patrol the corridors. Is that perfectly clear? 

As the Prefects nodded and rose, the three of us and Malfoy were left alone with McGonagall and Sirius, who unbeknownst to me had been listening to McGonagall from the doorway.  Sirius was also watching us for our reactions – which were not in the least complementary.

  Harry's eyes were burning with anger and resentment, and Malfoy, well, his eyes were no more than narrow slits and I bet if I'd have poked him he would have shattered, he was so tense.  I myself couldn't believe that McGonagall would separate Hermione and me from Harry and even Draco – although I do admit that her plan had merit – I didn't like it at all.  Hermione was being logical, and even though she was furious, I could see the wheels turning in her head, pondering the plan. Sirius's voice broke the silence that had been gathering.

"You understand why we're doing this, don't you?"  

Harry started to speak, his voice full of what sounded like desperation.

"I may understand, but I still don't like it.  I should stay and fight.  Its my fault all these people are in danger, my fault that, well, everything is my fault, really, and you're telling me to go stick my head in the sand like an ostrich and ignore the danger that you and everyone else is going to be in and know that there is absolutely nothing I can do to help defend my school, my classmates, my friends, and myself.  Bloody hell, Sirius, when?  When am going to be allowed to face him again?  I've defeated him before, I can do it again.  It has to happen eventually, Sirius, you know.  Why not let me face him now instead of later instead of letting everyone continually suffer?"

I had some inkling of what Harry was feeling.  I know he had nightmares, - and bad ones too, because I could hear him tossing and turning at night, and at times crying out.  The anguish in those cries jerked me out of deep slumbers all the time – but there was never anything I could do but hold his shoulders down to keep him form hurting himself when they were at their worst.  Dumbledore's whispery voice answered Harry's query from the door, where he had been listening.

"This isn't the right moment, Harry, but all in good time, I assure you.  Now if we could perform the charms on you and Mr.Malfoy?"

I went to stand beside Harry, where it looked like Hermione was trying to squeeze the life out of him she was hugging him so tightly.  In spite of all that was going on a smile flitted across Harry's face as he released her.  I looked into his eyes clapped him on the shoulder, as Hermione shook Draco's hand.

  I don't know what he said to her, but it must have been unexpected, due to the look of consternation on her face.  Malfoy turned to me next, and shook my hand firmly before following Harry out the door.  

I sat in silence, digesting everything that I had just been told, and the fact that my best friend had just walked out of the room, only to return to Hogwarts when the threat to his life had diminished.  

McGonagall herded Hermione and I back into Dumbledore's office, which I privately thought had to have been enlarged to fit so many people at once.  When we rejoined the crowd, it was to discover that Bill had arrived, his ever present earring intact. 

 When Dumbledore returned alone, I knew that the Fidelius charm had been performed, and Harry and Draco were gone.  My conversation with Bill was interrupted by a clatter on the stairs – it appeared as if the Prefects had arrived with their volunteers and – what?

_Ginny? There is no mistaking the fact that she's here, because of her hair, but why?  She could be safe, should be safe back in the Tower, what does she think she's doing? My baby sister…she shouldn't have to face one of Voldemort's henchmen..._

I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I hadn't noticed McGonagall was motioning us back into the meeting room.  I resolve to wait until after McGonagall was done talking to the Prefects to tell Ginny to go back to the Tower…

_No, I won't tell her.  I'll suggest it.  That way she won't think that I 'm ordering her to go back, yes, that's a good strategy…very good, in fact…wonder why I haven't hit upon this route before, make her think she can stay and then she won't want to, the brilliance of it all.._

My thoughts were interrupted by the words

            "If the towers are breached, they'll go after Muggleborns first; we especially don't want that to happen…"

I had been so engrossed in my plan to get Ginny out of the way of danger – at least as far as I could get her- that I had missed the fact that Remus had started to give us detailed instructions – I had just followed Hermione to the corner we had been after McGonagall had concluded her speech…

_Hermione.  Wait, Hermione is muggleborn.  Oh gods, they'll go after her first.  She's a member of the Order of the __Phoenix__, Head Girl of Hogwarts, at the top of our year, and to add insult to injury, Muggleborn…oh no.  _

I could see that Hermione was coming to the same deduction herself, and I squeezed her hand, hoping to reassure her.  I would do anything in my power to keep her safe – and I hoped she knew that.  Hermione squeezed back, and we returned our attention to what Lupin was saying, only to find that we had been separated yet again.  

Hermione was paired with Neville, and I with Lavender.  The logic behind Dumbledore's separation strategy was sound; I didn't like being separated from Hermione any more than I liked being separated from Harry.  At least we were still both in the Great Hall, although Hermione was on the opposite side, but she would remain in my sight – which is more than I could say for Harry.  

I didn't say goodbye to Hermione.  I couldn't, not really.  It would have been too hard. She probably didn't notice, we were all so focused on the tasks at hand.  I only realized later.  

_When it was too late._

  Even though I didn't say goodbye, I did say be careful.  I said it softly, as she disappeared around the corner behind Neville.  She didn't hear me, or the unspoken words that followed.

_Be careful…because I couldn't bear to loose you…_

Lavender had been watching Neville and Hermione disappear towards Gryffindor Tower, and she spoke, her voice soft, yet anguished at the same time.

"Maybe we should go, find our p..positions, erm, our places…and um, get ready…"

Lavender's voice trailed off in a half choked sob.  I tried to reassure her, calm her.

"Lavender, its okay, c'mon, don't cry.  They won't get very far, Lavender, shhh, don't worry."

And with my hollow words of reassurance, we turned down the hallway and made our way towards the Great Hall.

There were several entrances to the Great Hall, and Lavender and I were stationed at the one that lead to Ravenclaw's Dormitory, at least, where I thought it was located.  Lavender composed herself while I watched the proceedings taking place in the entrance hall – and kept my eyes on Hermione.  

She showed no outward signs of fear; or apprehension, or anything at all.  She was the perfect picture of composure, and a pillar of strength.  The sight of her was calming to me somehow, I don't know why.

            It felt like we had been waiting so long – Lavender's whimpers had almost subsided – but it had only been around fifteen minutes since Lavender and I had arrived in the Great Hall.  A sudden ruckus occurred in the entrance hall, and Lavender and I were told what that the death eaters had managed to apparate inside of Hogwarts grounds.  I didn't know how or why, but once one of Hogwarts' defenses goes down, it doesn't go back up.  

The results of this were twofold.  One good, one bad.  Since the apparition barrier was down, it meant that more death eaters could arrive, but it also meant that aurors and ministry officials could apparate too – which was a major advantage for us.

            The sounds grew louder, coming ever closer to the double doors that were the only things separating us from what was shaping up to be a fearsome fight.  I met Hermione's eyes across the hall – and I knew that she would fight to the death if necessary.  Harry had the same utter dedication – the glint I had often seen in his eyes as he prepared to do battle was now shining in Hermione's.  I couldn't tear my eyes away from her, but I had to, in the end.  The doors crashed open with an agonizing bang and a chilling message, delivered in the form of a ministry official.

"Get ready, get ready, get ready…they're coming…to get you…"

            Aurors immediately apparated into the Hall from other points in the castle.  I ducked into the shelter of my doorway, and yelled at Lavender.

            "Run, Lavender, warn the Ravenclaws – Hurry!"

She took off around the corner, quick on her feet.

_…Lavender will be fine – she's a Gryffindor after all…don't worry, concentrate…oh Lord, there's a death eater, several… Ron, get a grip man, you've faced worse…_

But every time there are still those feelings of self doubt.  Hermione, Harry – they're so confident, so sure, and I well, I am… I don't know what I am exactly, but I know what I am not.  Sure, I'm head boy, but Draco or Harry would've gotten it, except for their work with the order.  

I was the third best choice, which seems to happen so often in my life.  Youngest of six brothers – last boy to do everything, and then, when I got to Hogwarts, best friend of the Boy Hero and the Girl Genius.  Its not that I begrudge them their status – for all of Harry's fame there is so much more pain, and with all of Hermione's brilliance there is the fact that she grew up alone among her Muggle peers, isolated because of her differences.  I just wish, somehow, that I could share in a little of the glory, instead of just being…

_"Oh, Ron, the youngest Weasley boy," or_ "Ron Weasley, isn't he best friends with", or "wasn't his brother Quidditch captain",__

_… or so many other mindless euphemisms__. I want, want so badly to be my own person, referred to by my own accomplishments, not that of others.  It seems I am always on the outside, looking in at the accomplishments of others, without ever having done anything myself.  I've learned to mask my feelings.  _

On the outside everyone sees a self-less, dedicated student who worships his best friends and loves his family.  They see a good Quidditch chaser, a kind boy, one who fights for what he believes in.    

Only I know that that isn't the truth.  And I'm ashamed of the way I feel.  I've tried to stop feeling, to bury myself in my studies and my friendships.  I have almost succeeded in fooling myself into thinking that I am the person that everyone sees.  

And then, just when I need concentration the most, the old feelings sneak around the defenses I have built.  Like now.  

I glanced over to Hermione, and she was looking at her blasted watch.  Who but Hermione would bother to check the time as death eaters swarmed the school grounds?__

            With that hysterical thought in mind, I tore my eyes from the sight of Hermione and looked around – and she was gone.  I thought she was safe and …

I am kneeling, gingerly brushing bits of stone from Hermione's arm, hoping against all hope that she is alive.  Ginny is running down the corridor, the slap of her feet on stones echoing harshly against the vaulted ceiling.  

_Slap. Slap. Slap._

To the rhythm I move the crumbled stones from Hermione's crumpled form.  It looks as if a pillar has caught her squarely over the shoulder – pinning her to the ground.  It is a blow that would have killed a mere mortal. But Hermione, she is not a mere mortal.  She is mortal, yes, but she is also magical – a combination that affords her more protection from calamitous events.  

Even so, as I brushed the dust from her slacken cheeks, I could barely feel the whisper of exhaled breath on my palms.  I dared not use magic to remove her from the mass of stones, a sudden spike of energy might be too much for her weakened state.  

Finally I move the largest chunk of stone, and Hermione is free. She still hasn't stirred, hasn't made sound.  I cradle her in my arms, checking carefully for broken bones.  There are none, only a series of small cuts that have left streaks of blood running through the dust that covers her and the rips and tears of her robes.

I smooth the locks of hair that are falling over her brow, whisper nonsense words to her.  I pray – hoping somewhere, someone will hear my plea and restore Hermione to her former self.

As I murmur, stroking her hair, cradling her in my arms, in the distance I can hear footsteps approaching.  The sound echoes in my skull.  I fear that they may be too late.  

Hermione's breaths are so shallow that her chest I barely moving, and she struggles for breath.  I don't realize that Ginny has returned, panting from exertion, accompanied by a blood stained Madam Pomfrey and a ragged looking McGonagall.  McGonagall's hands are covering her mouth in shock.  Madam Pomfrey is kneeling beside me, a question on her lips.

"What happened…there are no spells that can …do this, she didn't respond to _Ennervate_…"

I answered, gesturing towards the crumbled pillar.

" I think the pillar fell on her shoulder…it must have been hit by a powerful  spell, and she couldn't get out of the way fast enough…is she going to be all right?:

Madam Pomfrey checked Hermione again for broken bones, finding none, as I had.  She cupped Hermione's head in her hands, a golden glow emanating from her palms.  She moved to her shoulder, the light pulsing.  I had never seen Madam Pomfrey use her healing powers in this way, and apparently neither had McGonagall, as she was just as transfixed as I. 

Madam Pomfrey lowered Hermione back into my arms carefully, and started to speak softly, almost regretfully.

"I've done all within my power to do.  Miss Granger appears to have sustained a head injury, one that could render her unconscious or in a coma for an extended length of time, or…she may never wake.  Time will tell, but now, she needs to be moved to the hospital wing"

As Madam Pomfrey's words died down into silence I stood as if I were a statue made of marble, a dull roaring sounding in my ears.

…She might never wake up…

_A/N ~ Apologies are in order.  I feel that this chapter is a bit disjointed, given that it was written during time snatched between and during classes that I really can't afford not to pay attention to…umm yeah, that would be algebra.  As I'm writing this my Spanish teacher is sitting on a chair on top of his desk banging on a _congo___ drum while India.Arie plays in the background.  And this is during class, mind you.  So I apologize profusely.  _

_I'm also experimenting with Italics and breaks in the text, but Word isn't cooperating so it may be a little bit messed up.  And I broke my paragraphs up to make it easier to read.  Currently I have started the second chapter of Filmstrips, I have about two tablet sized pages written, and I'll try to scribble faster in order to get it posted as soon as humanely possible.  The chapter will be a flashback, does everybody like that? Please let me know._

_Gratitude and Other Remarks_

_First and Foremost ~ A great big whopping THANK YOU!!!! To all reviewers.  I never realized how wonderfully delicious it is to open up my mailbox and see them ~ its intensely gratifying and makes me want to write more and more, of course, my sister now thinks I'm totally insane instead of half way gone because I was dancing around the basement singing "I've got reviews!!!" Anyways, thanks so much._

_Specific Replies_

_Straycat__ ~ I'm really terribly sorry for leaving you hanging like that on both stories, but the art of the cliffhanger…it's a wonderful literary device…I'm sorry, sorry, sorry.  But I can't help myself._

_Trina K. ~ she's not dead…yet…and did you see the paragraphs?? Are they better? Hopefully._

_The Mauvelus Jacklope ~ wonderful beta reader that you are, your vocabulary of yay! Is quite refreshing, also the many exclamation points! ! ! ! ! ! ! are quite enjoyable.  Thanks much for beta-ing, you're right, you rock, you and eleclyn, both. For laziness issues, you will be now be addressed as Mauvvie.  hehehehe_

_Eleclyn__ Starmaker ~ you will forthwith be none as ellie because your full appellation_

_ (vocab word, cough, vocab word) is way too difficult to type, and I'm lazy.  And I'm sure Mrs. Moyer would enjoy, although she's never read the Harry Potter books.  A travesty, that, for an English teacher.  Thank you for your praise on characterization, I really thought it was a bit off, but hey, if you like it then it must be good.  Ellie, as mentioned above, you rock._


	3. Vigil

_Outside Looking In_

_Chapter Three_

_~ by flourishes_

_Disclaimer:  I wouldn't be sitting in my little corner of __America__ if I actually owned Harry Potter. I'd be traveling the world._

~*~

_Half the world is sleeping__  
Half the world is awake  
Half can hear their hearts beat  
Half just hear them break  
--Julie Gold_

~*~

It's been three hours since they laid Hermione into a bed in the corner of the over crowded hospital wing.  There have been long unintelligible groans of pain, high-pitched screams, sobbing, and whispered conversation coming from all around us. But Hermione has been silent.  She hasn't stirred. Her face is peaceful – the corners of her mouth are quirked upwards in a gentle smile.  Whatever she's thinking, I hope it's happy.  There really hasn't been much to be joyful about lately – in fifth year everything was so tense – and ever since sixth year we've been on tenterhooks, just waiting for the right time to cast the circle. 

            Maybe she's remembering that last summer, the one after fourth year.  Sure, Voldemort was back.

But it bloody well didn't seem like it.

He made no overt attacks; he just steadily regained his power base.  I think it lulled us all into a false sense of security.  However false, I clung to that security and wore it like my favorite Chudley Cannons 

T –shirt.  Faithfully.  

I pretended that he wasn't there, that Harry's eyes weren't haunted and hollow, that that summer would last forever. 

Because I knew, once school started up again, that reality would set in.   I had no idea how harsh that reality would actually be. 

I think if I had known, I'd have voluntarily gone to live among Aragog and his kin.

'Course, I probably wouldn't have.

But I would have run far, far away.

~*~

I've lost track of time.  The light coming in from the casements long ago ceased.  I'd forgotten how eerie the hospital wing could be at night. Even  Madam Pomfrey is sleeping (and that woman never sleeps, at least in my experience) and only the occasional cry interrupts the stillness of the air. Hermione slumbers on.

I have to stay awake, maintain my vigil.  

If I pray hard enough, maybe she'll wake.

If I talk long enough, maybe she'll respond.

I think I've said the phrase "Do you remember when…" at least a thousand times already.  Those memories – of laughter, Quidditch, Malfoy the Amazing Bouncing Ferret, and even fighting trolls – take me back.

Sometimes I wish that things could be that simple again. 

I know that's why I'm fighting.  So my children can laugh over fake wands and gripe about the Daily Prophet.  If I die – well, then, I'll have died so that someone else's children have the freedom to do that.

But I'm not going to dwell on that eventuality.  

Especially since I'm sitting in the Hospital Wing, among so many who could die – and especially since we have lost so many since Cedric Diggory.

I think I'll dwell on the happy memories.  And since I've left Hermione with so many tonight, I don't think she'll mind if I close my eyes and try to get a wink of sleep.  I am so very, very tired.  I can only hope that my dreams are pleasant – or that I have none at all.

~*~

I dream of the Burrow, of that last summer…

~*~

I figured I'd be keeping in touch with Harry and Hermione by owl until Mum got Dumbledore's permission for them to come visit – well, at least for Harry.  Hermione just had to convince her parents to let her come, they would, but only after they'd had their daughter to themselves for a bit of the summer holiday.

I didn't think I'd be seeing Hermione till at least the 31st of July – but I was wrong.  

Dad came home one night from the ministry with the news that his mate at the Floo Regulation Panel had permanently connected Hermione's London home to the network.  It was solely in case of emergency. 

Mum threatened me with disembolment if I even thought for one second about flooing there.  In Dad's words, strictly speaking, Muggle homes weren't supposed to be connected.

I didn't know about the next person, but I was quite fond of my digestive tract.  I couldn't live without it, so…I didn't even consider flooing to Hermione's until a lovely chat I had with Fred and George a week or two into the holiday.  

I knew they'd been experimenting with some new products lately – where they got the money I'll probably never know.  They were being very closemouthed all of the sudden.  Usually they never shut up.

Mum had apparated over to the Fawcett's for a bit of tea and conversation, and, I like to think, a bit of silence.  Fred and George had moved their operations into the shed under the guise of cataloguing Dad's Muggle plug collection.  There were even louder explosions than last year, but when Mum checked, the haphazard piles of plugs and other various Muggle contraptions were beginning to be organized.  I was under the impression that Ginny was the one doing the actual cataloguing, but Mum was happy.

Mrs. Fawcett was an old school friend of Mum's – every once in a while they'd get together and have a good go at the gossip.  Mum was at her house on the other side of Ottery St. Catchpole.  The twins and Ginny were out in the shed, and I was in my room, trying hard to concentrate on my newest acquisitions – books. 

Bill had sent me a list of books that he thought would be very helpful, given the current climate.  I assume he was referring to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's reappearance, and the fact that I was best friends with his ultimate target.

Whatever Bill's motives, Percy had jumped on the list and before I knew it a stack of books worthy of Hermione were piled beside my bed and I was elbow deep in hex books (I told Bill that Hermione and I had helped Harry with his research for the third task, but no, did he listen?  Of course not.)  I had charm books, potions books, Transfiguration for the Seriously Endangered Wizard, and general information books about the Dark Arts and Magical Society as a whole. 

To my utmost chagrin, at the top of Bill's list was Hogwarts, A History.  Percy made sure it was near the top of the pile, too.   If it ever got back to Hermione…I shudder to think of the crowing.  I know that Sirius sent a similar list to Harry – so if she does find out, maybe I won't be alone in my misery.  And besides, as soon as I'm done, the books go straight to Ginny. 

Anyways, I was deep into a chapter on Chess strategy (I didn't say all the books were horrible) when shrieking erupted from the depths of the black hole that my father calls a shack and my brothers call a laboratory.  Of course, the book was thrown aside immediately and I launched myself down the stairs, wand in hand.  After all, you can never be too careful, right?

I was halfway across the lawn before I was able to discern the words behind the screaming.  I wondered where my sainted little sister had picked up some of that vocabulary.  Certainly not from me.  It seemed I wouldn't need the wand, after all.  But I did want to see what had Ginny so riled up.

Let's just say, however overused, clichéd, or stale the phrase is, it was priceless.

Fred and George were on the floor of the shed, rolling around in fits of laughter on top of the spark plugs.  Ginny was, well, Ginny had two heads.  Her mouths were moving in synchronized sounds of outrage.  Fred and George were compared to the scum of the earth and I was lumped into that particular comparison as well, seeing as I had joined the twins on the floor.  Ginny was so busy spouting off about the different ways she was going to make the twins suffer that she didn't notice that Percy had appeared in the doorway of the shed.  Despite being a pompous, overbearing git most of the time Percy did have enough sense to realize potential blackmail material when he saw it.  He grabbed the Muggle camera that Hermione had humored Dad with by teaching him how to use it and snapped a picture of Ginny the Two Headed Wonder.

Great Chap, Percy.  He used that picture to ensure that none of the new Weasley's Wizard Wheezes would be slipped into his food, clothing, or mail tray.  Ginny returned to normal after about five minutes.  

She hexed Fred and George so badly that it took both Percy and I three hours to look up all the counter curses and reverse the spells.  Seemed as if Ginny'd been doing her reading as well.   It left me as the only guinea pig for their new inventions, though.  I'm quite sure Fred and George won't be trying out any more products on Ginny for a very long time, indeed.  I doubted they'd wish to repeat the experience ever again.  

After all, there aren't even names for some of the stuff Ginny threw at them.  Percy and I had to look up the counter curses under effects.  George's hair should turn back to its normal color soon, I hope.  Pink isn't a horribly good color on him.

But that's beside the point.  I was sitting in the family room, alone with my Potions homework, trying to no avail to figure out just what the heck Snape was thinking, assigning that kind of crap essay when Fred and George emerged from the shed.  

Fred sat across form me, and George stood by the fireplace, one arm draped casually over the mantle.

I recognized a classic Forge ambush when I saw one.

George would do the enforcing, for the most part, and Fred would do the talking.

I didn't have a clue what it could be about, though.  I hadn't done anything – recently – to warrant such an obvious interrogation. It wasn't about me, as I soon figured out.

"So, Ronald.  Heard from Hermione since King's Cross?"  Fred said, nonchalantly.

As a matter of fact, I'd had one letter.  Couldn't figure out what they'd be wanting with Hermione, however.  So I hedged. "Seeing as she happens to be one of my best mates, what do you think?"

Identical grins cackled. "Now, now.  We don't want you to get your dander up.  We're just inquiring as to her general health.   Her parents are denticators, no?"

"Dentists."

"Ah, yes.  That. So tell us, little Ron, why does Hermione sneak home bags full of Honeydukes sweets – that happen to be concealed in bags marked as potions ingredients?"

"How do you…?"

Fred's grin was wicked in its scope.  George spoke, this time. "Fred and I," he said, motioning towards Fred's stance in the chair, "thought our dear old Hermione could do with a few laughs this summer."

Oh, that was not good. I managed to get out of them that they'd included not only Two Headed Twists, but also something they called Silencio Sugars and even another product that they hadn't named yet.  It that turned the recipient into a squirrel temporarily.  And when I'd asked if that was all, Fred just gave me a roguish wink and said,

"Well now, we'll just have to wait until Hermione decides to become a normal human being and succumbs to the temptation of Honeydukes best candies, now, won't we?"

That qualified as an emergency.  If Hermione were suddenly to sprout two heads in the middle of Muggle London the Ministry of Magic would have to get involved – certainly something that Fred and George had not factored into their equations. You'd think they would have been more careful, but no.  I guessed I'd have to forgo my digestive tract after all and floo to the Grangers.  

After all, I was being responsible.

Then, of course, I remembered the last time Harry and I had tried to be responsible.

We'd crashed the Ford Anglia into the Whomping Willow.  I guessed I should try to owl first, yes, that would be the right way to go about it.

In typical fashion, Pig was gone.  Ginny's the only one that borrows him  - the other members of my family prefer the slowness of Errol to the hyperactivity of Pig.  Ginny was in her room, leisurely flicking through a magazine.  A model smiled and twittered on the cover – Witch Weekly.

"Why do you read that crap? You know what they did to Hermione and Harry – it's just a load of old tosh, that rag."

"Maybe, but its funny tosh."

All right, so this conversation was getting me nowhere. "Fine.  Next time undiluted bobotuber pus is sent to you by a Witch Weekly reader and you think it's funny, let me know.  Where's Pig?  He's not in his cage and I didn't send him anywhere.  Did you borrow him again – without asking?"

"You were too busy rolling around on top of Dad's spark plugs to ask."

"So, you did take Pig."

"Brilliant of you, Ron."

"Where'd you send him?"  

Ginny's eyes narrowed dangerously.  "That's my business, don't you think?"

"That's my owl, if you please.  And that's also a lovely shade of magenta, there, Ginny.  Am I right in assuming that Pig went on a lovely jaunt to Surrey?"

You'd think after seeing Fred and George hex riddled an incapacitated that Ginny's temper, which was usually just as volatile as mine, had gotten considerably shorter fused since the last time we'd verbally sparred at each other.

It's extremely hard to walk down three flights of stairs when you're under the Jelly-legs jinx, when your wand happens to be in the pocket of the jeans you threw in the laundry basket after one of George's hex induced pustules burst all over you.

And since ingoing 4th years and above were no longer being cited for using magic during the summer (as long as they lived in Wizarding homes or had express permission to construct wards for the Muggleborns) because of the new "situation", Ginny wasn't even going to get remotely in trouble.

As luck would have it, Errol was lying facedown in his cage.  He was still alive – but I had to check to make sure. Mum'd been sending food to Harry and the latest bunch must have made Errol all tuckered out.  

Percy was working out of his room again.  I decided that he would just have to come to me, as walking up the stairs was near impossible when your legs feel like the consistency of grape jelly.  

"Oy! Percy! Ministry Owl here for you!"

He wasn't very pleased to walk all the way down the stairs only to be confronted by my wobbling self and no letter.  But he did tell me Hermes was out -  and he was so very kind enough to reverse the jinx.

There wasn't any choice, then.  I would have to floo to Hermione's.  Dad was still at the Ministry.  Mum was out puttering in the garden, the WWN blaring.  She wouldn't even know I was gone.  Percy was back shut in his room; Ginny was thankfully nowhere near the fireplace.  The twins were, well – where else would they be?

So I took a pinch of powder, stepped into the fireplace and shouted, "The Grangers!"

Dad had told me he'd had the fireplace in Hermione's room connected.  I was somewhat curious to see what her room would look like – probably happily clean and tidy.  The grates swished past quickly and in no time at all I was stepping out of the fireplace.  The first thing that registered to me was that Hermione's room was in fact very untidy.  And the second thing that I registered was that there were two girls sitting on the bed.  One of them was definitely not Hermione.  I was pretty sure that the clunk that followed my realization came from that other girls' body striking the floor in a dead faint.  

Bollocks.  That was not good.  It was also really, really funny.  

Especially the expression of Hermione's face.  She looked like she'd just swallowed frog spawn.  I figured I should say something.  "Erm…I guess I should have owled first then.  To make sure you weren't ah, umm, receiving Muggle visitors?"

Hermione gave me her McGonagall look.  Seemed as if she'd been practicing. 

As Percy was the only one currently at the Burrow who could perform a memory charm and would not cut certain pieces of my anatomy into small pieces, he was the one I had to fetch.  Fetch.  Haha.  C'mon Percy, lets go obliviate Hermione's friend.  That would go over well.  He'd be just thrilled.  Although, since it was an opportunity for him to have an entirely peaceful summer, as he already had the goods on the twins and Ginny, he might not be too upset.

He wasn't, at that.  He'd just raised his eyebrows and sighed resignedly, and told me he'd apparate to the Grangers directly.  I turned around after I made the firecall to see Hermione still glaring daggers at me.  

She had a bag of candy open in front of her.  She handed the other girl some.  Oh no.  Not good, not good at all.

Before I could open my mouth, Percy apparated.  The girl didn't say a word.  She looked like she wanted too, though.  Drat.  It would have been a Silencio Sugar.  I couldn't help myself.  I tried not to laugh.

But it was so very, very funny.

Hermione didn't think so, obviously.  Her eyes were so narrow I couldn't figure out how she was able to see.  But boy, she sure could scold.  She sounded just like my mother.  All seven questions enclosed in her diatribe were delivered without pause.  

Course, when I said as much her hand moved automatically to where her wand would be, but luckily she didn't have it on her.

I had no desire to be subjected to Jelly Legs again.  So I figured I had better address her complaints.

"One question at a time.  First, you just fed Miranda – is that her name? – one of Fred and George's new creations.  They mixed some of their new products in with your stuff from Honeydukes on the train.  I was coming to tell you that, as George only let it slip last night. Didn't want you to spout two heads like Ginny did, awhile back.  They slipped something into her cake when Mum was out visiting the Fawcetts. I think what you gave her was one of the silencio sugars or some equally odd product name that makes use of the literary device of alliteration.  She should be able to talk again soon.  It's not just the shock.  Oh, and that's why I was laughing.  That, and you just did a remarkable impression of my mother.  Are you taking a correspondence course or something in the scolding of Ron and other miscreants?"

Oooh, she didn't like that.  The facts that Fred and George had tampered with her things – briefly I wondered whether they'd come across her diary- and Miranda's mouth was cemented together combined with my laughter had her almost to the breaking point.

"Get to the point, please, Ronald."

Of course, I had to push just a little more. 

"Which one?"

"I don't care if they cite me.  Where's my wand?"

She really didn't like that.  Time to gear into pacification mode.  You see, I know just what buttons to push to get Hermione riled up – fighting with her is my chief entertainment source and I do it as much as possible.  As a result, I know that if I would never _not _want to fight with her, there is a point at which to stop.

"Okay, okay.  I'm aware of the danger. I was just afraid you'd attract attention if you happened to start acting like a squirrel – that one was inspired by Dean in Moody's class, you know – or sprout two heads, or do something else that they didn't tell me, the wankers.  And Hermione? I'm sorry but I think Miranda will have to be Obliviated.  If someone starts asking questions or something and she just happens to mention a red head popped out of your fireplace things could get pretty dodgy for you here.  The charm won't have to be as powerful as the one the Ministry used on the Robert's.  It shouldn't harm her.  She'll just be a little disoriented for a while.  She'll be fine, really.  About Dumbledore…my intentions were good – I was being responsible by coming to tell you what Fred and George had done.  So I don't think there'll be much of a problem there.  And the ministry won't have to get involved – Perce can do a pretty mean memory charm. I didn't owl first because Hermes was "busy, delivering important ministry correspondence" but I think just flying a letter over to Penelope's, and Errol was recuperating.  He flew into the window again, after Mum sent him to Surrey with some food for Harry – the Dursley's are starving him again. Ginny was borrowing Pig – when I asked where she sent him she mumbled something unintelligible and turned a rather odd shade of magenta. Which of course led me to believe she's conducting some sort of secret correspondence with none other than Harry.  So as you can see, no owl.  Even though my hilarity would know no bounds if you just happened to spontaneously start pawing the air like a squirrel, I don't think you would have appreciated it.  Dad's had you connected to the Floo Network in case there was an emergency and I thought this qualified as a minor one. And besides, I missed you, good friend and all that you are. "

I hate being a red head.  We blush so easily.  As soon as the words "missed you" left my mouth I could feel my ears flame.  

Blimey.

The only consolation was that Hermione seemed to have lost control of her verbal skills.   It was quite a consolation, indeed, her usual eloquence diminished to unintelligible mumbling.  That didn't happen very often at all. 

Apparently she'd said that we should go talk to her parents.  I'd never actually held a real conversation with the Drs. Granger, just said hello, goodbye, and cheerio in Diagon Alley.

They're pleasant enough people – although Mr. Dr. Granger looked a tad bit murderous when Percy and I appeared behind Hermione and Miranda the Muggle in the doorway of their study.  Mrs. Dr. Granger looked flabbergasted at Hermione's explanation, but she was understanding enough.  Percy obliviated Miranda and then he Apparated, while Miranda was still unfocused.

            Hermione seemed to have recovered the use of her vocal cords and remembered that she was supposed to be upset at me.  I gave her a quick explanation of how to discern between real Honeydukes candy and Wheezes, needled her a tad more, and then I was gone. 

Percy was waiting for me when I got home; Mum was still out in the garden. Dad wasn't home.  There was no escape.  Percy was tapping his fingers.   He cleared his throat.

"So."

Oh joy.  Joy, Joy, Joy.

"It was an emergency.  Fred and George mixed their products into Hermione's candy from Honeydukes.  You know what happened to Ginny.

I could see him, contemplating.

I'd just implicated the twins – but hey, my digestive tract or them getting stuck degnoming the garden? It was an obvious choice.  Hopefully Percy would be reasonable.  More likely, he'd run straight to Mum.  But that would ruin the blackmail he had on the twins and Ginny.  I'm no great shakes at logic.  Especially since this was Bighead Boy.  His mind always works in ways contrary to that of normal young male wizards

In the end Percy decided immunity from all of his siblings till living at home was more important than venting his anger to Mum.  

Luckily for me….

~*~

There is a rustle somewhere behind me.  I can't identify it.  I've been startled out of my sleep – my wand is still in my pocket.  I grab it, tensed.  I don't know where I am.  Every instinct that I have honed since fifth year screams that there is danger.  I whirl, my wand outstretched.  

Only to be faced by the slim form of my sister.  It must be close to dawn. The room is no longer inky black.  

Ginny reaches for my wand-arm, lowers t to my side. 

"Ron. You need to sleep."

"I was sleeping, then you woke me up."

"Granted.  But you need to sleep in your own bed.  That chair can't have been very comfortable. And I doubt you were sleeping very long."

"Comfort has nothing to do with it, Ginny.  I'm not leaving Hermione."

Her mouth twists in a wry smile. "You can't help her, Ron.  She's unconscious. You know that."

"I'm still not leaving."

"Thick-headed prat.  You have to keep up your strength.  You know that, too.  You know how important – "

"No. It doesn't matter.  Without Hermione we don't have a chance."

Ginny sighed. 

"But Hermione will be there.  In the foretelling, she's there.  That's proof that she's going to wake up."

I really couldn't believe that she was putting so much faith in Sybill Trelawney.

"You're forgetting that Sybill Trelawney is not her whatever greats grandmother.  She's a crackpot old bat who likes nothing more than to tell people they're going to die."

"You heard her, Ron.  Harry did too. The foretelling is real. Dumbledore said they were real trances – just like in your third year when she predicted the return."

The foretelling gives me hope.  But at the same time, I really can't just trust everything Trelawney says.  I know she was right twice – but only twice.  Could she be right again?

Seriously, any person that could give the utterly ridiculous Divination homework that Harry and I concocted glowing praise would have to be severely addled in the brain.

I wanted to believe in the foretelling.  The ultimate result of the foretelling would be what our whole world has been striving for since Voldemort's little rebirthing party. His downfall.  It would also mean that Hermione will be alive – and powerful enough – to cast the circle. 

But I know what Trelawney isn't.  She isn't a true seer.  

And besides, the foretelling wasn't like any of the others that had gone before.  It was different, in more ways than one…

"Accio Wand!"

My wand slips through my fingers and into Ginny's outstretched hand. 

"You need to go to bed.  Now. You're dead on your feet.  When we get back to Gryffindor Tower you're going to get into bed and then I'll give your wand back and come straight here so Hermione won't be alone."

Her wand is trained on me.  She isn't taking any chances.  I don't have a choice but to lead the way.  It's all right, I think.  I'll be back soon enough.  After all, Ginny won't remember the invisibility cloak.

~*~

She did.  And I was so very, very tired.  The boy's dormitory was silent, save for Neville's snores.  Harry's four poster was empty.

I fell asleep, slowly. 

And I dreamt again of that last, bittersweet summer, before the world fell apart.

~*~

_Hold fast to dreams._

_For if dreams die,_

_Life is a broken-winged bird_

_That cannot fly.__  
__~Langston Hughes_

~*~

Author's Note:  This was written ages ago, while I was still in school, sometime in late May when finals were still breathing down my back.  I know this because scribbled at the bottom of a page on my notepad are the words Modern Russia, Middle East, and China, which to me mean that I was writing when I shouldn't have been the day my World Cultures teacher told us what the final was going to be on. Obviously it was written before Order of the Phoenix came out and I've just been too lazy and away too much to type it up and post it.  I did consider recanonizing everything, so it would fit, but it's too much of a job.  (in case any one was wondering, I was one of the insane people standing in line at midnight to get the book)  Anyhow I'm just going to let this be an AU fic and hopefully by the time it's done I'll have read OotP for the third time and have cemented some ideas for a new fic or two.  I was suffering writer's block for awhile on this fic so if you'd like to see the results of that click on my bio where you'll find A Curious Affinity With Rats, my take on Peter Pettigrew.  Thanks much to any and all reviewers.  Also kudos to my betas, TMJ and Eleclyn Starmaker.  This piece was beta read only by Mauvvie, because Ellie's away at camp in Canada, and she's the one that catches most of my mechanical errors so if there's many I apologize.

P.S.  I also wanted to say that I'm hugely sorry for the delay (something like three months or more, since I wrote this during finals and I've now started back to school)  My summers are whirlwind, and it's a bit pathetic that I have more time to write during school than I do out.  I'm still working out when and where in my schedule I can write, seeing as I went from having three study halls to one, and the classes that I specified for writing last year have changed from being incredibly easy to me actually having to pay attention.  Also, this is late because the disk where I keep all my work vanished.  I had a quasi breakdown and flung the house upside down, but didn't find it. Luckily I had a copy of this chapter on my computer, but it was the unbetaed version, and I threw fits upon fits when I found it there in its awful form.  This was better, once upon a time, and If I ever find the disk I'll repost the better version.  If there are any glaring errors, let me know.


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